


That Man; That Monster

by BatJunior



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Bruises, Child Abuse, Freedom, Help, Help is never too far away, Scars, Self-Harm, Sirens, Suicide, too late, weight of the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 00:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9296090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatJunior/pseuds/BatJunior
Summary: All she wanted was to be free but it took becoming an angel for her to finally be free of that man.





	

She sat crying against her bedroom door, salty tears streaming down her pale skin. She could hear them outside, laughing and making jokes, like they couldn’t hear her muffled cries. Every fiber of her being ached. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe, like the weight of the world was pressed down against her chest. 

The man she called her father had just threatened to have her kicked out onto the street with little more than the clothes on her back because she dared to stand up for herself, she dared to have a voice in a world that refused to listen. He had been sweet at first, telling her she was beautiful and his entire world but just as quickly that sweet man whose voice she had heard on the phone her entire life changed and he became a monster, one that pulled her hair at night and kicked her when she’s down. He takes everything she has and more but nothing is ever good enough for him, nothing ever would be. He would never understand her anger, never understand why she cried herself to sleep at night. All he understood was that he could take and take because she was powerless to do anything to stop him.

She could feel a scream bubble up within her throat. She bit down against the pale flesh of her arm to stop herself from screaming. He would only hurt her more if she made a sound. When would it stop? When would the pain stop? She just wanted it to all be over. 

At night she prayed he would die, prayed her father would die painfully; she prayed he would be burnt alive, drowned or stabbed. She prayed every night while he hit her, only so that she could finally be free of him. Did that make her a bad person? All she wanted was freedom. 

Her hands shook as she reached for the razor blade she kept hidden beneath her only pair of fraying black, shoes. She raised her hand, watching as the harsh light of the fluorescent lights overhead gleamed against the blade. He never seems to notice the excess scars that litter her body, the ones not inflicted by fists or cigarette burns. She tries to keep them hidden by the ugly purple and black bruises he leaves against her pale flesh. No one ever seems to notice. She’s invisible, a speck of dust in a world full of bigger problems. She placed the cold blade against her warm, tingling flesh. The first cut was like a breath of fresh air, it felt as though she was finally able to breathe for the first time in eleven years. She sobbed as she made the second cut and the third. By the sixth cut, her arm had gone numb. She could no longer feel the stinging of the blade or the cold metal between her fingers or even her warm blood pooling down her arm. As she looked down at her arm she knew she had cut too deep, there was too much blood. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, she would finally be free, free from the monster. She leaned back against the door, resting her head peacefully against the cool wood and she laughed.

Her vision blurred around the edges. The darkness blurred with the light. She had never felt happier until the darkness claimed the light…  
And in the distance sirens screamed.


End file.
